


stay for a drink

by nostrix



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Drinking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Mild Gore, Rescue, Vampires, Whump, fuck netflix im writing them soft, just at the end it got major sappy, little bit of, the violence isn't that graphic but just in case!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostrix/pseuds/nostrix
Summary: jaskier finds shelter from the rain on his way to see geralt, but there's no such thing as a well-intentioned side character in the witcher.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 263





	stay for a drink

**Author's Note:**

> this starts off like a bad porno but i promise it really isnt im just bad at plot setup lmao
> 
> first time writing in a long time so let me know what you think!

Another laugh ripples out of Jaskier as raises his mug, cheerfully exclaiming “I’ll drink to that, my good fellow!” 

The man opposite – Victor, his name was – laughed too, raising his own mug to take a drink as he watched the bard intently. He was dressed modestly but not poorly, despite the poor looking abode he owned, but Jaskier was not one to judge where the other man’s priorities lay when he was being offered his alcohol and company. The bard had been passing by, on his way to meet Geralt at the inn at the crossroads, when a storm had broken out and he found himself knocking on the door of a small farmer’s hut hoping to get out of the rain, still around half a day’s ride away from his destination. 

He was in luck it seemed, as the door opened to a friendly looking man who greeting him nicely and invited him in out of the downpour, hanging his travel cloak up to dry and giving him a seat near the warm hearth. He’d listened to Jaskier’s chatterings, and somewhere between trading tales and a game of gwent, they’d started on the farmer’s ale. Apparently Victor made it himself, and didn’t often get to share it on account of living alone and being off the beaten track, and Jaskier was only too happy to indulge his host. 

The laughter trails off naturally after a moment, and Jaskier notices the quiet of the hut, and looks through the window to see the rain has finally stopped, though it was already getting dark outside. 

“My, it’s getting late,” he starts, a little disappointed to be ending their spontaneous shindig. “I should get going – it was a pleasure to spend time with you Victor,” He smiled at the man and made to get up. 

“It’s getting awfully dark out there though, it’s more dangerous to travel in the woods at night isn’t it?” Victor interrupted his plans, “and it’s going to be difficult terrain, especially if you can’t see where you’re going.” 

Jaskier chews his lip thoughtfully. “Well yes, but I really do have to-” 

“Why don’t you stay here for the night? It can’t be something so important that you have to risk your safety – why not wait until tomorrow when you aren’t slurring your words so, and the ground will be less treacherous,” he suggests with a shrug. 

“Are you sure?” Jaskier frowns slightly in contemplation. “Well, I suppose you’re right. Oh- but I wouldn’t want to intrude! You've already been so generous today and I have little to pay you back with.” 

or chuckles and stands, motioning for the bard to follow. “Nonsense! We’re friends now, it’s no problem for me. You can take the bed – I have a few things to deal with before I retire for the night. Go ahead and make yourself at home!” He gestures to the frame bed at the end of the hut, hidden behind half a wood panel to separate it from other living areas, and then leaves the bard to his devices as he goes out into the rain, towards the barn where his half a dozen sheep were presumably kept. 

Jaskier is left a little confused, but no less touched by the generous offer. He’d wanted to interject that he needn’t take the bed, he can deal with the straw and fur mattress on the floor, but the man was gone before he could say so. But he’s still weary from his journey so far, and slightly drowsy from the alcohol, so he settles down for the night and is asleep before the farmer returns. 

\--------------

The sweet sound of birds calling wakes him up, and he almost wants to sink further down into the warm bed, but he has to get back on the road and he has delayed too long already, so he shuffles out of bed into the chilly morning air. His head is pounding slightly, but he writes it off as the alcohol he had before going to sleep, mentally berating himself for not drinking water between ales if he’s suddenly become this much of a lightweight. 

He makes his way towards the still-burning fire, expecting to see Victor there, but he is alone in the hut. Probably off doing farmer-ly duties, or something of the sort, he thinks. His clothes are still slightly damp from yesterday, so he leaves them hanging for the moment – his dry breeches and shirt will have to suffice – and instead heads to the kitchen area. He couldn't in good faith leave without saying farewell to his new friend, but perhaps he can also fix them both breakfast. 

As he approaches, something sharp presses against his socked foot, drawing a startled hiss from him. As he peers down to get a good look, he finds tiny shards of pottery – a jug maybe? - on the floor, and a clean area free of dust, as if someone had done a terrible job of brushing the shards under the cupboard to hide it. The shards are accompanied by an old dark stain which, upon following the direction of the splashes, covers the edge of one cupboard door and the corner of the counter top. He thinks nothing of it, only that Victor really ought to learn to clean up after himself, and that the stain would not have set into the woodwork so thoroughly if it had been cleaned up soon after it happened. The smell is peculiar. 

He goes to open the cupboard, only half searching for food now, and barely gets a peak at a pile of rotting food before Victor’s voice startles him into shutting it again. 

“What are you looking for?” He asks, and jaskier doesn’t know why he’s so on edge all of a sudden – this is the gentle fellow who offered him shelter and company last night with no expectations in return. He hadn’t heard him approach. 

“Ah, well I, I was looking for breakfast but- that is, I,” he stumbles, unsure why he’s nervous, “I really should be going now, see the sun is getting high in the sky and I still have a fair way to travel, and- and I really have bothered you enough.” He makes towards the fire to retrieve his cloak and boots and other belongings, but Victor doesn’t move from where he stands in front of him. 

“Oh come now, it was no trouble at all, but you really should stay for breakfast,” and now Jaskier isn’t seeing the friendly smile anymore, but a hunter’s focus. It unnerves him. 

Victor doesn’t move out of the way, posture casual but unrelenting, and Jaskier doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know why, but he’s getting a terrible feeling from this man all of a sudden, palms sweating from nerves he doesn’t understand, and all he wants is to step outside of this hut and not look back. He opens his mouth to object once more, but he can’t get his words out. 

“I think you should stay,” Victor repeats, and it’s not sounding like a request. He eyes how far away the door is, and notices a coat hanging beside it. A man’s coat, much too small for Victor’s figure, hung next to a lady’s cloak, and another small enough for a child. Beneath are matching pairs of shoes. He doesn’t know how he didn’t see them before. 

Victor is still staring at him, right in the eyes, and surely has realised what Jaskier was looking at, and his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. 

“I thought you said you lived alone?” he asks quietly before he can think to stop himself, almost afraid of the answer. 

“Ah.” The man narrows his eyes at Jaskier, clearly having been caught out, and any remaining friendly façade slips away easily. 

"That’s a shame," he says casually, and he turns slowly to face the bard fully, drawing up to his full height. "I'd hoped to keep you ignorant a while longer, but I suppose it was bound to happen." 

Jaskier doesn’t think, just bolts before the other moves. He tries to duck under the man’s arm when he reaches out for him, but the back of his jerkin is snagged in his quick grasp and he staggers back into his reach, and they overbalance in his flailing and go down. 

Victor quickly flips them so Jaskier is underneath, belly down on the dusty floor, and the bard frantically scrabbles forward. One arm is gripped harshly by the man and pulled back, but with his other he reaches for a ceramic shard from the pile hidden underneath the cupboard, wriggling as best he could to turn around. With as much force as he can muster, he brings the shard down into the man's neck. 

Time seems to slow for a moment. Blood splatters everywhere, and Jaskier lets go of the shard with a yell as his own hand is cut by the edges. He makes to shuffle backwards, expecting the man to drop dead, but the body is still seated heavily atop his thighs, unmoved by the action. He looks up and is met with a very much unperturbed, very much _not dead_ face, no pain twists his features as he casually brings a hand up to retrieve the shard from its intrusion to his flesh. 

Dread fills Jaskier's stomach as the man just tips his head back slightly, a groan of discomfort leaving his lips. The bard watches in transfixed horror as the wound closes up, leaving smooth skin only stained red. He can barely contain his whimper of fright - this man is no man, _he’s a vampire_ , and his already fast breath picks up in panic, desperately trying to pull himself away from the creature. Jaskier ceases moving as dark eyes lock onto his, a rabbit caught in a wolf's gaze, and he finds words utterly fail him in this moment. 

He watches in trepidation as the man takes Jaskier’s injured hand in his strong grip, bringing it close to his face, and dragging his tongue across the incision. A sound of sheer horror is pulled from his throat as he realises how truly powerless he is against a creature such as this. 

"So sweet is your blood," Victor hums, eyes still closed as if in ecstasy, "so free of hatred or sorrow, so pure and untouched by the horrors in this world. It’s unlike any other." He sighs in resignation, and once more pins the trembling bard with his gaze. 

"After the taste I helped myself to last night, I'd intended to keep you for a while, drain you slowly," he says, almost conversationally, "but now you've just made me angry," and when his dark eyes affix to his own, Jaskier knows he's about to meet his doom. He starts struggling with renewed vigour, shouting out in the desperate hopes of a passer-by, trying to pull his hand away, to kick off from the ground and dislodge his attacker. 

"No no, wait! Don't do this! Please, let me go- NO STOP! HEL-" he's cut off by the vampire's hand covering his mouth, pressing hard on his face and turning it to the side as he lowers himself over the helpless bard. 

"It'll only hurt more if you're moving so much" he murmurs, mockingly gentle in his ear. His cold breath is at his throat and Jaskier has never felt more helpless. He stills in both fear and resignation, closes his eyes as fresh tears start to escape, and he wills himself to think of anything except what's about to happen, scared of the pain to come. He wishes he weren't so alone. 

He feels the teeth press in agonisingly slowly, as if the creature is savouring his flesh, and he can feel the blood being drawn from his veins in an odd sensation. It's soon drowned out by the feeling of numbness seeping into his toes and fingertips, and the world starts spinning. He starts to forget being afraid, and just waits for the oncoming darkness. 

Only, the darkness doesn't come. 

He's distantly aware of a crash, and the pressure at his throat is ripped away as there's another loud bang, and the world erupts in a shimmering cloud above him. Perhaps he's dreaming? Maybe this is just what happens when one dies. And yet the sounds continue, clanging and shouting and thumps and shattering wood, all muffled from his position on the floor. He scrabbles for consciousness, not understanding what was happening, why he couldn't move still. 

Was that someone calling his name? 

He’s too tired to hear. 

A shadow over him, and then nothing. 

\--------------------------------- 

Jaskier comes to slowly and painfully; it's dark and he's warm, and for a moment he thinks he's in a cosy room at an inn or perhaps in a brothel somewhere, judging by the human-feeling pressure at his back. Then it all comes back to him in one horrible shock of memory, and before he's fully awake he's flying out of bed, back to the wall, and away from the other being. He’s already shaking from adrenaline, and settled into as much of a defensive stance as he can manage in his state. 

It only takes a moment for him to be aware that, first of all he's alive, and second of all, the vampire wasn't warm like the body behind him was. He blinks away the dark spots from his vision caused by moving so suddenly, and his gaze finally falls clearly upon the other occupant of the room at the same time as he registers his name being called gently. 

"You're ok Jaskier, it's just me," Geralt's posture is open and deliberately non-threatening, and he holds his arms out as if to steady the bard, "just Geralt. The vampire's dead. You're safe now." 

Relief floods through Jaskier at the sight of his friend and escapes in a shaky breath, and he makes it all of one step before he falls to his knees on the soft bedroll beside him, allowing those strong arms to pull him back into the warmth. 

"Geralt, I- how are... what happened?" he settles on breathily, falling easily into the witcher's safe embrace. He allows himself to be manoeuvred back into a more comfortable position, with Geralt laying himself behind him and tucking the bard securely towards his chest, a protective arm around his middle. The familiar position makes Jaskier feel safe and he relaxes a little, heartbeat beginning to slow down at last. 

He hadn't realised how cold he was - from the blood loss, he assumes - but now he is grateful for the extra furs that Geralt pulls over them, and for the soft fabric he'd been redressed in in place of his bloody clothes. He feels around his neck for a missing chunk of flesh or something equally gruesome, and finds it clean and bandaged, along with his hand. 

"You got in trouble with a higher vampire. You're damned lucky I came to look for you when you didn't show," Geralt says gruffly, but not loudly. "You're gonna be cold, and dizzy for a while, but you should eat now that you're awake We can get out of here once you’re able to stand properly, make our way." 

Jaskier hums and pokes an arm out of the warmth of their pile of bedding, seeing Geralt had already set out some cured meats and fish, and a few fresh berries, and takes a strip to chew on. He's still feeling faintly nauseous and doesn't want to overdo it. 

"It was the archespores that gave it away. Must've hidden the bodies outside, but not far enough away. I could've passed by here completely." Geralt continues quietly, no doubt trying to impress upon Jaskier the dangers of stranger and even stranger kindness. He'd been alive long enough to know that optimism was not realistic in this world. 

Looking around, Jaskier can tell they're still in the dead family's house, and he wonders with a shudder what would've happened had fate not been on his side. If he'd be just another bloodless corpse in the ground, and nobody would know he was there. He doesn't feel like eating anymore. 

"He nearly killed you, Jask" Geralt mumbled into his hair, tightening his arms a little more around the bard in concern. 

Jaskier turns to face him, smiling. He puts a hand to his cheek and presses their foreheads together. 

"But you came and saved me. I'm not going anywhere soon; you can see to that." 

Geralt hums softly and smiles in return, eyes closing as he indulges for the moment that his friend is here and safe, and they find comfort in each other's arms.


End file.
